


No Doubt

by cowboykylux



Series: Pale x Reader Vignettes [1]
Category: Burn This - Wilson
Genre: 1980s, Blue Moon Universe, F/M, Phone Calls & Telephones, Phone Sex, Post-Canon, Shameless Smut, Sleazy and Seedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-02 08:50:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19195609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboykylux/pseuds/cowboykylux
Summary: It was not stalking. You just kept happening to show up at the same place around the same time as him, that was all.Pale x Reader vignette set in the Blue Moon 'verse!





	No Doubt

**Author's Note:**

> Entirely the fault of the wonderful Adamsnackdriver over on tumblr, who sent in this prompt: Phone sex with Pale. I need that filthy mouth telling me dirty things!

It  _wasn’t_ stalking. 

Pale didn’t give a shit what anyone had to say about it, he wasn’t fucking stalking you. You just kept happening to show up at the same place around the same time as him, that was all.

But damn it all, you looked real fuckin’ good, poppin’ up all over town wherever he went. Maybe you were the one following him, huh? Maybe  _you_  were the one who needed to be taught a lesson.

He was sitting at a booth in his favorite shitty dive bar, because of course he was. Had a long fuckin’ day at work, thought he’d unwind with a glass of something strong. The place was a little too crowded for his taste, schmucks shoving their way to get an elbow on the bar-top for a refill of warm beer. Pale avoided that whole fuckin’ mess and was in his booth instead. It wasn’t his fucking fault that the booth was right by the window, wasn’t his fault that the window faced the street.

Wasn’t his fault that across the street you were working hard, bending over and showing off your gorgeous tits as you wiped down the tables in the diner. You were so damn pretty, he thought. The way you looked when you were concentrating, pouring coffee for late night truck drivers who really oughta be on the fuckin’ road. The way you looked sipping a malt on your down time, the way you looked pinning your hair up out of your pretty fuckin’ face.

He wondered how long he could watch you like this, without someone coming and distracting him or you. Wondered if he should quit watching you and just fuck you, touch you, taste you right in the damn diner. Wouldn’t be the first time.

He thought about all the things he wanted to do to you, all the things you’d let him do. God you were so good to him, always real fuckin’ jazzed about whatever, about all of it, any of it, anything he’d give you. He’d fuckin’ give you everything – but that was a thought for another day.

He made up his mind when the bartender put on some obnoxious music from the jukebox. Pale downed the rest of his drink, dropped some cash in the bartender’s hand on his way out, shoving the door open and letting it slam closed behind him.

When had it gotten so dark?

Maybe he could have some fun with you, he thought as he adjusted his jacket against the chill of the night. You liked fun, liked him. You liked him. He thought about it for all of two seconds before he was walking across the street, passing the diner where you worked. There was a little phone booth just on the end of the block behind the place, and thankfully it was empty.

He sniffed from the cold, turned the collar of his leather jacket up, and fished around in his pocket. Luckily for him, he happened to know that this particular phone booth was in direct view of one of the back rooms of the diner. Not that he had watched you from here, or nothin’.

You were sitting and chatting with an old man, your boss, Fishel. He was nice, he treated you real good, like you were his own family. Still though, Pale got jealous – he wanted to be the one talkin’ to you. The diner was practically empty, only a couple people in booths smoking their cigarettes. You were stretching, your arms over your head, your skirt riding up ever so slightly as you eased the stiffness from your spine.  Jesus his cock was getting hard just imagining pushing that skirt of yours all the way up, grabbing at that ass…

His fingers were punching in the diner’s phone number before he even knew what he was doing.

He licked his lips as the tone rang, watched to see what would happen.

The reaction was immediate, but it wasn’t the one he was hoping for. Fishel laughed at something you said, and was still chuckling when he answered the phone.

“Diner on 34th, this is Fishel how can I help ya?” The gravelly voice asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Hey, is (Y/N) working tonight?” Pale asked, watching through the window as Fishel turned to look at you, pointing to the phone. You nodded, the good girl you were, and Fishel in turn started pressing all sorts of buttons on the receiver.

“Yeah, hold on I’ll transfer you.” He said, before his line clicked off.

Pale listened to the dial, chewed his lip as his eyes followed you as you walked across the diner, went into a dark little room that was in direct sight of the phone booth. It was a storage room, cardboard boxes that lined all the walls and the window, except for a perfect little viewing spot for Pale. He liked that you didn’t turn the light on, the streetlights doing enough, Pale could see just enough.

“Hello?” You sat down on a little fold out chair in the room near the phone, picked it up.

“You look real fuckin’ good, you know that?” Pale said, already working on getting his belt off.

“Hey Pale,” Your tone immediately brightened when you recognized his voice, he watched you shift around on the chair, prop your legs up on one of the stacks of boxes. “Where are ya calling from?”

He watched you try and look around, but he didn’t want to be found just yet, didn’t want his spot to be compromised.

“Don’t you worry about that, you got bigger fish to fry.” He said with a bit too much bite, making you hum thoughtfully.

“Oh yeah?” You asked, in that way of yours that only spurred him on. He could just imagine you stroking his chest, seductively rubbing your hands over the silk of his shirt.

He had to lean back against the glass of the phone booth, thankful for it being so dark outside. No one would see him rub at his dick, it was so hard for you, he needed to pull it out, needed to give it some air.

“Yeah, you got my cock hard bending over and spillin’ your tits all over the table, you whore.” He pressed his thumb to the head of it, hissed a little into the phone. You hummed again.

“I’ve been thinkin’ about you.” You said, getting turned on. You had to know, of course you did, he thought.

“How’s that?” He asked, wanting to hear you say it anyway.  

“I miss you, being at work and all. You didn’t come in today.” He could hear the pout in your voice.

“I had some real important work to do today, doll.” He tried explaining, before licking his lips and asking real fuckin’ low, “How much did you miss me?”

“A  _ton_ , you were all I thought about today.” You replied, whining just a little. He could see your posture changing, the way you were pressing your thighs together just a little bit.

Bingo, he thought.

“Why don’t you lock that door for me, huh?” Pale said, watching as you reached over and twisted the lock on the door. It was a small enough room that you didn’t even have to get up off your chair, but the reach made your legs spread just the tiniest bit, and Pale could see the barest hint of your panties. He hoped they were wet. “That’s my good girl.”

“Are you jerkin’ off?” You asked, hopeful.

That made Pale laugh just a little bit, because yeah, he was. He had spit into his palm and was slowly tugging at his dick, smearing some pre-come down the shaft.

“You bet sweetheart, wish it were your hot cunt though.” He said, and you sighed.

“Me too, your cock fills me up so good.” You agreed, your hand tracing idle patterns on your chest. Pale watched and watched as you sighed into the phone just a little bit more, your knees tipping apart.

“Spread your legs, go ahead. No one’s lookin’.” He said, and really he didn’t fucking know. But he’d kill the poor sonofabitch who happened to get a glimpse, that was no fucking big deal. He absolutely had to get you to come for him over the phone, he had to. “That’s it, suck on those fingers doll-face, get em nice and wet.”

You did as you were told, like you always did. What a fucking angel, he thought, imagining it was his fingers that you were sucking on. He’d grab at your face and make you choke on his dick – and maybe he would, later.

“You’re such a whore, unbutton your fucking shirt.” He said, and you abandoned your tongue to carefully but quickly pop the buttons open, revealing your cleavage to him.

“Like that?” You asked, and he nodded, even though you couldn’t see him.

“Yeah, pull your tits out, come on I’m dying to see them sweetheart.” He slowed himself down, wanting to savor the sight of you, wanting to make you real hot and bothered, wanting to make you come in your fucking panties and keep you messy until he could officially take you away from work to fuck you into next week.

“Yeah, I know, I’m your slut Pale.” You said, and he took in a sharp breath.

“Say my name again.” He growled into the phone, and then again when you whined out his name. You were getting desperate for him, he could tell in your voice, your legs were spread so far, he could practically see the wet spot, god you were so wet for him.

“I’m gonna bend you over that fucking storage bin and push my cock so far into your pussy you’ll taste it.” He grunted, spit in his hand again and jerked himself off a little harder.

“Please?” You slipped your hand down the front of your panties, spread your legs further. You braced one foot up on a box nearby, and your breathy moans spilled into the phone, came out crackly on the other end.

Good, he thought, he wanted to hear it, wanted to hear all of you.

“And when you’re drooling for me I’m gonna gag you with my fingers and get you nice and sloppy – go faster.” He cut himself off when you had started to slow down. He wasn’t having that, he wanted you moaning like the whore you were for him.

“Okay, Pale – I wish it were your fingers, they’re so thick.” You whined, and he smirked.

“You like how it feels when I fuck you on my fingers? That it? You like me reaching all the fuckin’ way inside you and makin’ you feel good?” He asked, and he watched you nod.

“Yeah.” You breathed, he could hear the wobble in your throat, could hear the moans as you started to move faster and faster, probably rubbing your clit.

“Put the fucking phone on your pussy, let me hear it, let me hear you fucking finger yourself.” He demanded, and you did, propped the phone right up on your thigh.

You were so wet for him, he could hear the slip and slide of your fingers, he could hear the squelch of your spit and your slick and your sweat all being pushed in and out of you. His mouth watered, he had to swallow a couple times, god he could practically  _smell_  you.

He  _thunked_  his head against the wall of the booth, and listened to the sound of you fingering yourself, watching you with your head thrown back and your tits out, shiny with sweat. Suddenly, the sickly sweet sounds of your cunt went away, and Pale frowned.

“Pale – ” You held the phone back to your ear, licked the sweat off your lip. He knew what you wanted, and the answer was  _no,_ not fucking yet.

“Don’t you dare make yourself come you fucking whore, not yet. Grab your tits, pinch at your fucking nipples.” He ordered, not wanting this to be over too soon.

He could see through the main diner window, no one was needing you yet, he wanted to drag this out while he still could.

“But – ” You started to protest, but he only grunted into the phone as he fondled his balls for a minute.

“No fucking buts, grab your tits.” He snarled, “Good, fuck I want to want you scream for me, I want to stuff your throat full of my cock and fuck you hard in your little skirt until your knees give in and you can’t fucking move – what underwear are you wearing?”

“The white ones.” Your chest was heaving, your tits rising and falling as you grabbed handfuls of them, pinched at your nipples and felt it straight in your cunt.

“I’d rip them right off and stuff them in my pocket, bury my face in your wet pussy and drink you down, would you come for me? All over my fucking face?” His face was getting all pinched up, he was so antsy, right on the edge, fuck he was so close.

“Yes!” You breathed, “Yes, yes Pale please.”

Your thighs were desperately wanting to close, your head was thrown back on the top of the shitty fold-out chair, those spectacular tits of yours in your hands as you kneaded and cried, cried because you wanted to get off so fucking bad, wanted his permission.

“I’d keep fucking you, until your cunt was raw, make you cry from it, from how good it feels. No fucking breaks, I’d just keep fucking you forever. I’d tie you up, keep you wet and stuffed for me, keep all my come safe in you, save it for a rainy fucking day. You were made for me, you fucking know that?” Pale was close, so fucking close.

“Made for your cock Pale, please, please let me come, I have to – ” You begged, and he relented.

“Come for be sweetheart, let me hear you.” He growled, and you did, good fucking girl you were.

“Oh!  _Pale_  !” You cried out into the phone, too loud, loud enough that someone could hear – someone could see, but there wasn’t nobody around, just you in that dark shitty room and Pale in his phone booth and he was so fucking close he was gonna lose it –

“Yeah that’s right, fuck yourself through it, you can do it, I ain’t done yet.” Pale said, “Your tits look so good, I’m gonna come all over them. Fuck I can see your come on your thigh, you feel it?”

“I feel it Pale.” You were trying to even your breathing, he could see you start to shift around again, collect yourself.

“Clean yourself up, come on, you know what the fuck to do.” He licked his lips again, and you did, and you did, scooping it up with your fingers and sucking the juices off. Pale didn’t like anything going to waste.

“Come on me Pale, please please please.” You whined into the phone, sucking on your fingers extra wet the way he knew you knew he loved.

Your legs were still spread, and all of you looked sticky and slutty and he just wanted to fuck you for real, so damn bad, wanted to slide into your pussy in one big push – this was just the warm-up, he was going to strip you and fuck you the first chance he got.

“Fuck – ” He grunted into the phone, shooting his load all over the glass panes of the window right in front of him.

He watched his come splatter on the window of the booth, and let his shoulders slump just a little bit with the relief of tension. God it felt good to come, he thought with a chuckle, if only it were in you.

You were buttoning up your blouse in the room, and Pale thought soon, soon he would.

“You did great sweetheart, get back to work. I’ll swing by in an hour to bring you home.” Pale said, wondering if the operators were listening, if anyone knew at all that he made you cry out his name in the storage room at the Diner on 34th.

“Alright, but you better make good on all that shit you said.” You laughed just a little, clearly in need of a real good fucking. Your fingers were great, but Pale knew they didn’t compare to his tongue, his cock, his own hands.

“When don’t I?” Pale said with a smirk, waiting a moment before hanging up.

He tucked his cock back into his pants, fished a tissue from his back pocket and tried wiping up his come before giving up halfway. He’d be back to add to it, no fucking doubt about that.


End file.
